


On Your Six

by Moonsheen



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action, Competency, Gen, In Media Res, Mild R76, Mission Fic, Omnic Crisis, Teamwork, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 08:24:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8394385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonsheen/pseuds/Moonsheen
Summary: Trapped in a flipped omnic transport, Gabriel Reyes needs to get an injured Jack Morrison to safety. He's got limited ammo, dwindling supplies, and the only way out is now up.Luckily, Gabriel Reyes has also watched the hell out of The Poseidon Adventure.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deixisdyad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deixisdyad/gifts).



...Okay, sure, the situation was crap, but he’d dealt with worse. Hostile over his chest. Dead. Two more at his feet. Also dead. Jack in the center of the room. Injured? Dead? Hard call. Gabriel rolled the corpse off of his chest and checked his gear. Sometime in the fight his tactical interface had clearly stopped working. He couldn’t see Jack’s vitals at all. He pushed up the face piece and knelt next him.

 “Hey,” said Gabriel, patting his shoulder. Jack’s gear was a mess, blackened by smoke and smoldering. “Hey, boy scout. You breathing?”

 “Ugh,’ coughed Jack. That answered that. Jack rolled half onto his elbow and stopped, trigger hand hanging. His rifle lay crosswise near his feet. Bullet graze on the shoulder. Bruise down the side of his face.

“Hey,” said Gabriel. “Morrison. Status.”

“What,” gasped Jack. Cut lip. Hell of a deep one.

“Good morning, starshine,” said Gabriel. “The earth says hello.”

That got him up. Jack’s eyes flew open. He threw his arm out, fumbling for the pulse rifle that wasn’t in his immediate reach. Gabriel grabbed his arm, pinned him on his back, and pulled a biotic grenade off his belt.

“Friendly,” he said, jamming the business end into Jack’s chin.

The biotics took. The bruise faded to an ugly yellow. The wound on his shoulder looked slightly less damp. The cut on his face healed, but the mark stayed, a dark, brutal line across Jack’s jaw. They’d have to do something about that later. Jack grabbed at Gabriel’s forearm, and held tight.

“Reyes?” he asked, after a second, pulling his mangled headgear out of his eyes. “That you?”

Gabriel dropped the empty shell.

“No. It’s the tooth fairy.” said Gabriel, laughing darkly. He stood, pulling Jack after him as he scanned the room. Three entrances. One blocked. Not good. Broken skylight. Dark. And under their feet... Not great. Upside down Omnica Corporation logo on the wall. Fucking beautiful.  “...You look like hell.”

“You’re one to talk,” muttered Jack, turning his head slowly. “What’s the situation?”

“Door’s out,” said Gabriel.

“Should be a skylight…”

“See for yourself,” said Gabriel, kicking at the ground. The broken fiberglass crunched under his boot. Jack followed the motion slowly, still rattled by the fall. “And you’d better look down, not up. Mission’s not a complete bust. This Sentinel Unit’s upside down. We must’ve flipped her in the skirmish.”

“Huh,” said Jack. “...Ain’t that something.”

“Ain’t it just,” said Gabriel. “I got three grenades and five clips left. You?”

“Rifle,” said Jack, automatically. “Seven clips. Think that’ll do us?”

“Going to have to,” said Gabriel. “Can you walk?”

Jack considered it. “Yeah,” he said, rubbing his healed lip. “Think so.”

“Great,” said Gabriel. “Watch my back.”

  


“You remember that spec sheet they showed us?” 

“Vaguely,” muttered Jack. “Do you?”

“Hah,” said Gabriel. Who didn’t remember a damn thing about it just then. “Think there’s a supply door in this thing’s heel.”

“So we’re going up?”  
  
“We’re going up.”

Sentinels were one of the nastier little toys the omniums had commandeered: big, lumbering storage facilities made for providing mass maintenance and transport for aerial units and other nightmares. They’d been developed pre-Crisis. Hence the logos.

And the interface system, which proved chatty as hell.

“Welcome, my friends,” said the intercom systems in a cheerful, androgynous voice, as Gabriel shoved himself up the upside down stairwell and dragged Jack after him. They stumbled into the area that must have once been the Sentinel’s main conference center.  Broken chairs hung bolted to the ceiling. “To Omnica Core’s Sentinel Waystation. We hope you enjoy this tutorial.”

“Thanks. I’ll pass,” said Gabriel, but of course the Sentinel didn’t acknowledge that. They weren’t all that big on little things like humans exercising free will.

“Welcome, Professor Lindholm,” said the interface. “It’s good to see you again. As you can see, Sentinel is fully equipped to maintain and transport twenty unities to a variety of locale around the world.”

Lights crackled and snapped around them, as the Sentinel tried to project images of that ‘variety of locale’ on the walls.

“Couldn’t have broken this thing enough to have it stop talking,” groaned Jack.

“Least there’s a light,” muttered Gabriel, shielding his eyes.  
  
“For what good it does us,” answered Jack, a little listlessly. In the stuttering white LEDs of the failing presentation, he was even paler than normal, heavy eyelids, dark like bruises. He had trouble focusing. Gabriel grabbed his shoulder and pulled him around the corner.

“Hey,” said Gabriel, grabbing his face for a second. Jack lifted his eyes. They didn’t quite track right. Slow reaction. Head injury, probably. Maybe one of the tin cans had used a flash bomb. “We’ve survived worse.”

“...Guess so,” said Jack. “Optimism. That’s new. Since when were you the Pollyanna of the operation?”

“Since I’m the one getting us out of this in one piece,” said Gabriel. In the next room, two rows of lights flickered and died under their feet -- what used to be the ceiling. A lump lurched alive in the dark. The tracks groaned as the omnic turned itself over.

“Five Castle Units, Two Pasadas, and a Ganymede complete the average stock of a Sentinel waystation, allowing for great versatility of action and response…” said the interface, proudly.

“Seriously,” said Gabriel.

“I got this,” huffed Jack, lifting his rifle. A sharp crack, and the pile of metal went still.

“Glad you can aim in the dark,” whistled Gabriel.

“I can do this with my eyes closed.”

“Don’t fucking try.”

“No promises, Reyes.” Another hologram lit up in the next room, and Gabriel could just make out the ghost of a smirk on Jack’s busted lips  
  


They climbed the elevator shaft. On the third level the interface introduced them to ‘the helpful maintenance drones’ which promptly swarmed them like something out of an old zombie film. Gabriel dispatched two with his shotguns and crushed three more underfoot.  He didn’t want to waste the ammo. Jack managed all right, until a stray drone stabbed him in the calf and his leg gave out. He twisted around, and bashed it with the butt of its rifle. Gabriel stood over him, dispatched four more, then dragged him limping through a door. They managed to drag it closed and pull a desk in front of it.

“SELF REPAIRING SELF REPAIRING SELF REPAIRING,” sang the interface.

“I hate these things,” growled Jack, fumbling for another grenade. He slouched against the wall and slid down it. He had a water bottle on his bandolier. He unscrewed it and took a long swig.

“Since when were you the doom and gloom of this operation?” asked Gabriel.

“Since I’m the one getting used as a pin cushion,” said Jack, but he chuckled as he dragged one of his battered gloves across his mouth. “How’d we get into this mess anyway?”

“You tell me,” said Gabriel, raising his eyebrows. He did a sweep of the room. More broken holograms, which meant the interface was still following him. Empty drone cradles. Nothing active. Paneling above -- from the floors. Maintenance hatch. Bingo.

“...Hell if I know,” muttered Jack. “Something to do with not listening, I’ll bet. Should’ve done that more often. Maybe we wouldn’t have gotten into this mess to begin with.”

“Put that in future tense and maybe you’re onto something, Morrison.”

Jack rested his head back against the wall.

“Maybe,” said Jack. “You kind of have a weird way of being right about things.”

“Been saying THAT from the start,” said Reyes. “I’ll need that desk to get at the hatch. Think you can hold off those drones for a bit?”

“I’m game if you are.” Jack picked himself up off the floor and reloaded.

“Great,” said Gabriel. He dragged the desk out of the door, and positioned it as the drones came streaming in.  


 

It used up most of their ammo, but they got the hatch open and climbed their way through it, Gabriel shoving Jack ahead of him through the maintenance tunnel. Drones scrabbled in the halls above them. Something bigger lurched around in the hanger the tunnel opened up into. The Sentinel had managed to keep its lights on here. Through a crack in the hatch, Gabriel could just make out the emergency doors -- high above in what had once been one of the base struts of the whole beast. He opened the hatch wider, moved halfway into the hangar, then pulled back as he saw the light hit his hand. Something opened fire. Pulse weaponry dented up the wall as he hauled the hatch shut again. 

“Ah,” he hissed, throwing out his arm. “Bad idea.”

Jack had been half ready to run for it. His chest bumped Gabriel’s arm, but he let him push him back into the tunnel.

“You hit?” asked Jack, reaching for him.

Gabriel looked at his hand. He opened and shut it, then rested it on his knee,

“I’m good,” he said. It was his turn to rest his head back against the wall with a thunk. “Out there’s less good. There’s a fucking Chiron Unit in the hangar.”

“Yeesh, really?” Jack tilted his head to one side. “Haven’t run into one of those since the Corinth campaign…”

“Don’t sound so excited about it.” Gabriel shook his head. “At least it’s got limited movement in here. It can’t transform, and I’m GUESSING it won’t have any mounted Bastions for cover fire. We might be able to take out its struts.”

“My movement’s limited,” admitted Jack. “Don’t think I can manage a sprint.”

Take the info. Reevaluate.

“ _I_ might be able to take out its struts,” said Gabriel. “Think you can draw its fire long enough?”

Jack went quiet for a bit. He picked up his pulse rifle and counted his clips. He offered Reyes the water. Reyes waved it off. He tried not to look at his hand.

“Think I’ve survived worse,” said Jack, finally, “but I think that thing might fall on you.”

‘That thing’ chose that moment to punch a wall. The Sentinel shook around them.

“The whole Sentinel might fall down on both of us if we don’t get out of here soon,” Gabriel pointed out. He unhooked his grenades and handed them to Jack. “You’re not getting soft about this, are you?”

Jack laughed. He couldn’t quite put as much spirit into it as he normally would’ve. It came out tired and raspy.

“You know, Reyes,” he said, in a distant voice, “you could be one hell of a guy. Really should’ve listened to you more.”

“Then stop writing my obituary and listen to me _now_ ,” said Gabriel. He slammed himself backwards against the hatch, and rolled out into the hangar. The Chiron Unit’s floodlights came streaking down.

 

Chiron Units were originally construction units. They had four long legs and five swinging arms. The arms were a problem. They like a giant metal flail. They knocked over whatever they could find, or just aimed themselves down, smashing you out of existence. It was the legs you really had to aim for. Chiron units required constant support around their base. Unlike more complicated omnics, they couldn’t right themselves on their own once they’d lost a leg or two. Gabriel targeted the legs. Gabriel targeted the paneling under the legs. Jack threw down a field and planted himself by the maintenance tunnel, distracting the Chiron unit with a constant stream of pulse munitions, grenades, and, occasionally, taunts. Reyes disabled one leg and got the other to catch itself on what had once been the hangar’s upper rafter. The Chiron pitched. The rest of the Sentinel seemed to pitch with it. Gabriel lost his footing and slipped sideways, grasping for purchase on the slick floor/ceiling as the Chiron’s third leg came crashing down over him--

The fall knocked him silly. He blinked back into awareness a few moments later. The Chiron unit writhed helplessly on its side. Jack stepped over him to shoot it through its sensors. It stopped thrashing.

“Reyes,” said Jack, offering him a hand.

“Jack,” said Gabriel, staring at it.

“Door’s just up that way,” said Jack. “We can use the Chiron for a boost. Think you can stand?”  
  
“Think you can do me a favor?” murmured Gabriel. He stood on his own, brushing out his coat.

“What’s that?”  
  
“Lock me in behind you,” said Gabriel, reaching back for his hood.

Jack’s face stayed just the way it was. His shoulders shifted only a little bit. That was Jack. Consummate soldier. Give or take a heart of gold. Goddamn him.

“Lock. Me. In. Behind. You,” said Gabriel. “I can’t keep this up much longer.”

“So you did know,” said Jack. “I was wondering.”

“Jack,” said Gabriel. “I can _see through my fucking hand_.”

Soldier 76 sighed and shouldered his rifle.

“How long?” he asked. “You blank out completely or were you just playing pretend?”

“Does it matter,” snarled Reaper, who could feel the darkness tugging at the back of his throat. “You want to stick around being high and mighty about it? My brain’s rotting out. I sucked enough life out of those men to last me a few hours, but it’s only ever just that. Get out, Jack. Get out. Lock the door, and pray to God it’ll be enough to keep me here, because the SECOND I’m free I’ll come after you and everything you ever held dear. So spare me the scout’s honor shit and GO.”

“That’s what I’d do now,” said the Soldier. “That’s not what I’d’ve done back then.”

Soldier 76 didn’t look at him. He hadn’t looked at anyone in years. Reaper sighed and held the bridge of his nose. It was one of those standstills, the kind that could bring the whole world crashing down, back in the day. He knew Jack Morrison when he was stuck on a course. He knew the odds of altering that course were a million to one. There was never any arguing with the guy.

“...all right,” said Gabriel Reyes. “Takes me about twenty minutes to regenerate from a full headshot. Thirty, if you’re thorough. Make it quick. I’m on your six, by the way.”

“I hear you fine,” said Jack Morrison, with that old, sad smile. “Thanks.”

He took aim and fired.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Stas! I keep writing you the nicest things!


End file.
